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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624167">Solace and the Moments Before</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereindawn/pseuds/sereindawn'>sereindawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>In the Bleak Midwinter (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anya is in most of these drabbles, F/M, Its my goal in life to make sure these characters stay happy, I’ll probably chuck them in some drabbles at some point so I just listed them to be safe, Other, Yes I know thats a lot of characters, fingers crossed, luka is soft as always, maybe alexei or irina if you’re lucky, maybe someone will get a hug, or are they??, so no ones gonna die dont worry, we’ll see, you get a fun balance of angst and fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:42:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereindawn/pseuds/sereindawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of individual In the Bleak Midwinter one shots and drabbles because we need some of those. Some follow canon timeline, others don’t.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anya/Ivan, Anya/Omega, Ivan/Anya, Omega/Anya, Others but not ships lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Library</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This first drabble takes place at the Androids base after Anya has been taken (non-canon as of yet). This one was fun to write lol.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya watched Omega’s side profile carefully, her fingers subconsciously picking at the loose thread on her sleeve the further her mind drifted to the figure in front of her.</p><p>His eyes were closed and he was still, not a single strand of hair out of place from its usual wind swept state. If he weren’t standing up then perhaps Anya would’ve thought he was sleeping.</p><p>She lingered in the doorway. He was stood in a room that she’d labelled as the library, something that had surprised her when she’d first stumbled across it as she explored the Android’s base. The floors were immaculately clean and smooth, with rows upon rows of dark, wooden bookshelves filling the space, rising to the top of the high ceiling as though climbing to the skies. The air was permeated with the scent of old paper and worn bindings, and it reminded her of when she used to get gifted books for Christmas as a young girl. Anya frowned at the thought.</p><p>A library wasn’t exactly the type of thing she’d expected to find, and she’d quickly felt foolish for thinking so - androids were a lot more human that they so proudly said they were.</p><p>The far wall, the same one Omega was facing, was made entirely of long, pristine glass, allowing the room to be bathed in a hazy azure. Silver light reflected from the snow cast soft shadows across the planes of Omega’s face, washing his skin in watercolour tones of blue and white. It was like watching a painting flicker into life.</p><p>She started when it talked.</p><p>“Are you bored?” he asked.</p><p>She hadn’t noticed his eyes open.</p><p>“Huh?” She responded, unsure if this was the opening to a conversation or an offhanded remark. She supposed he must’ve felt a little awkward with her staring at him.</p><p>“Do you want something to read?” Omega elaborated slightly, sounding like much more of a statement than a question.</p><p>“Well,” Anya began hesitantly, because she had been bored, but she hadn’t been looking for the library. She hadn’t been looking for him either, although when she’d seen him out of the corner of her eye as she passed, she’d stopped without realising and found herself unable to look away. “Yes, I do,” Anya continued with a slightly dry mouth.</p><p>He turned to face her, and Anya swallowed as his eyes glowed dimly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, did I disturb you?” She asked awkwardly.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>She nodded, shifting her weight from toe to toe as she looked at the books lined up in their neat rows in front of her.</p><p>“Are you not going to come in?” She could’ve sworn his tone felt warmer.</p><p>“No, I am,” Anya replied, although she didn’t make any effort to move into the room.</p><p>There was a thick silence, a beat or two, and then Omega took the opportunity to bridge the distance between them a little more - not enough to make a difference but enough for her to notice.</p><p>“Am I making you uncomfortable?”</p><p>“No,” she responded quickly, stepping into the room with a little more energy than was necessary. “No, you’re not.”</p><p>A beat. One where Omegas gaze made the back of her neck tingle.</p><p>“Am I making <em>you</em> uncomfortable?” Anya repeated back to him, feeling a lot more awkward than she thought she would in the situation.</p><p>“No.” He said, letting his eyes linger on her for just a moment more before he turned back to the window, watching the snow fall.</p><p>Anya took that as an invitation to start browsing the books, and as she did so, she could’ve sworn she felt a pair of eyes glance at her every so often.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Battle of the Toaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Enemies can lie in wait in even the most unsuspecting of places.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Omega tapped his fingers on the rim of the kitchen counter impatiently. </p><p>He was man’s greatest accomplishment, an impossible feat of technology. His very existence had been, for many years, unfathomable to scientists and engineers alike, dubbed as a miracle within the technological and scientific field. And yet as he stood waiting for his toast to pop up, he was really starting to doubt the intelligence of these said figures. You’d think with the genius that it took to create him that they’d at least figured out how to toast bread quickly. Maybe a super toaster. </p><p>Apparently not though, because he was certain he’d been stood there for over five minutes.</p><p>“You’re burning your toast.”</p><p>Omega twisted to face Delta, determinedly overlooking the mug in his hand because it really wasn’t helping to quell his own relentless craving for coffee.  </p><p>“The toasters broken,” Omega said, turning back around to stare into the depths of the thing that was supposed to be making him breakfast.</p><p>“No, it isn’t, I used it fifteen minutes ago,” was the reply that came. </p><p>Omega briefly considered the consequences of ignoring this. </p><p>“You must’ve broken it then,” he responded, swiftly cut off by a pointed scoff and the distinct sound of the mug being placed down in what he imagined was indignation. </p><p>“Don’t blame me for your mistakes, brother.”</p><p>“It’s the toasters mistake,” He muttered belligerently, suddenly growing restless and forcefully pulling out the plug so that he could retrieve his toast.</p><p>Delta made a noncommittal sound that told Omega he wasn’t really paying attention. Which was fine. Omega didn’t plan on continuing the conversation either way. He was perfectly content to sit in silence and spread butter on his disappointingly burnt slice of toast.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Indulgence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan has never known peace like he does with her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She looked almost fictitious. Laying naked between the sheets, hair splayed across the pillow, and lips still flushed from his touch. Seeing her this way was such a jolting contrast to seeing her blood splattered across white snow, her body angled in a way that no breathing person ever could be. </p><p>But like this, she looked beyond alive.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to be so distracted by her. She’d asked him to wake her when he left, but it felt wrong to disrupt her. He was sure that her nights were just as fitful as his own when she was alone, and she needed rest more than he did his own selfish gratification.</p><p>But he couldn’t help it when he went to crouch next to her, gaze wandering from the way the blanket spooled protectively around her body like thick silk, to the curl of her fingers beneath her chin. He lingered on the marks and freckles on her face, painting them into the forefront of his mind before coming to rest on her eyelashes.</p><p>In a moment of weakness, Ivan felt tempted to surrender to her request and wake her just so that he could catch a glimpse of her eyes. He settled instead, for reaching out and brushing a strand of hair away from her mouth with his thumb, stroking soft circles on her cheek as he did so. </p><p>It had taken everything in him not to stay. </p><p>Wrapped up within her, skin against skin, with the smell and taste of her still intoxicating his senses, she’d felt so warm and so real, so certain. He had traced his fingers along her spine like he was trying to memorise all the lines and patterns that made her, and had held her close when her own had found solace in the roots of his hair. </p><p>But duty had pulled him from his escape, and with every passing second, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the way his body ached to crawl down next to her again.  </p><p>For just a few moments more however, he thought he could allow himself the luxury of indulging in her warmth. Content to only be by her side, perhaps he could find peace in their shared silence just a second longer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Murderer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Even in sleep, peace is not always your friend.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Based on the scene from chapter 39.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She awoke in the dead of night, like she so often did. A scream wrenched from Anya’s throat, a noise too violent for her to recognise as her own, but she strangled it with her palm all the same. Her chest heaved and rattled, sounds that seemed too similar to sobs escaping between the gaps in her fingers.</p><p>The figure before her gagged and choked on its own blood, and she felt it’s body hit the snow before her. It writhed on the floor, grabbing mindlessly at it’s own throat as if that could put a stopper in it’s pain. The death wasn’t instant. Anya felt every fading heart beat as though it were her own. </p><p>It surprised her how clinical using a gun could be. There was nothing intimate about murdering someone with a bullet, you didn’t feel the act like you would another weapon. Perhaps thats why others found it so easy.</p><p>Her hands were not made for taking life, they were made for giving it. Yet it had taken so little for her steal it away, and there was nothing she could do to repay them for it - she was incapable of having the favour returned to her after all. There would be no life for a life, only death, and the murderer who had made it so. </p><p>She could still see them squirming on her bedsheets, even under the cover of shadow within her own room, she could still make out the red stain tarnishing their white uniform like spilt ink. </p><p>The figure haunted her, and Anya didn’t blame them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Delta's Queen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Delta likes chess?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air was still. Quiet. Shadows ran down the walls like thick tar, coaxed by the perpetual blue light emanating from the city below. It was a half city. Not a prosperous one, but one where he could watch his people live without the rotting chains of humanity, and for now, no matter how unwillingly, he could accept that.</p><p>Delta fingered the black chess piece absentmindedly, rolling it in his palm and stroking it with the tip of his thumb. Despite its many years of use, it had neither withered with age nor grown blunt like the chess board itself. She was pristine, almost as though this was the first time he had picked her up - a symbol of strength amongst her people.</p><p>He traced the grooves of the wood carefully, brushing over the carved crown and watching the light kiss the curve of her body with silver. The piece made no sound when he placed it down on its designated space, cushioned by plush velvet. A Queen ready to charge her people to victory. Concealed beneath the darkness of the room and the stain of her surface, she could defeat her enemy with all the grace and gentle touch of death itself.</p><p>He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on top. As he watched her stand, both a solitary figure and one that would never be allowed the luxury of loneliness, he couldn’t help but allow a wry smile to twist itself across his features.</p><p>
  <em>How very fitting.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Memories Of Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Omega lingers on the moments that have long been lost to time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His finger brushed against the surface of the book, lingering at the embossed spine and tracing the golden letters that spelt out words he'd had memorised since he was a child. </p><p>Omega had never particularly been interested in fantasy novels, they'd never really held his attention like other genres had - mystery was much more his sort of style. But he remembered his mother had insisted that he read this one in particular, pressing the pages into his hand with a smile and wink, ignoring his half hearted frown and then ushering him to bed. He must have been about ten at the time. </p><p>The book had been finished within the night, and although Omega was scolded the next morning when he arrived in the kitchen with dark circles and unbrushed hair, he had concluded that it had been very much worth it. The book in question was still kept in the very middle row of his bookshelf to this day. It was a comforting thing, even though the paper had started to turn dry and discolouration tainted the edges like dirt, it still felt like something from a past life that he ached to re-live. </p><p>The book smelt like home. </p><p>He could almost imagine the scent of his mothers perfume, the drift of sweet pastry smell from the kitchen and taste the clean air on his tongue. But the reality had faded, bleeding into the pages of his books and leaving only a whisper behind them. </p><p>He closed his eyes, and let his fingers wander the cover once more. Perhaps he could indulge in the memory for just a moment longer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lie To Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's just straight up Ivanya angst.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you love me?”</p><p>Theres a raw sincerity to her voice that tells him his answer will be definitive. Final.</p><p>He swallows, trying to stall his response, as though it could perhaps spare him a few more moments of being able to look at her the way he wanted to look at her. </p><p>He wants to reach out and kiss her, he wants to feel her skin on his and become everything that is her. Ivan’s fingers twitch at his side, as though they’re about to act of their own accord and tangle themselves in her hair, wind into the fabric of her being and hold her close. His chest aches like it’s about to collapse, and its a type of pain he’s only felt in grief.</p><p>“I don’t love you.”</p><p>The words taste disgusting.</p><p>They stare at each other, the silence smothering and excruciatingly long, like fate was purposefully playing with the strings of time, stretching them taut and breath shatteringly thin. It takes everything in himself not to crumple onto the floor right in front of her.</p><p>He can’t tell if he’s hurt her feelings. She’s unusually blank, as if she hadn’t just watched him rip out his entire soul in the most brutal way he could.</p><p>“Is that the truth?” She asks, voice forceful.</p><p>Ivan doesn’t look away from her when he responds. He can’t.</p><p>“<em>I don’t love you</em>,” and it feels like he’s just signed his own death sentence.</p><p>He thinks he dreams it when he sees her eyes dull, because he knows she doesn’t look at him with the same gaze that he does her. Perhaps thats how the lie can even be uttered to begin with. He can’t afford to be her weakness, her vulnerability, he will not be the reason she dies. But it feels like he’s bleeding out, and if he doesn’t hold her soon he thinks he might be the one to die instead.</p><p>So when he watches her nod with acceptance, sees her turn from him and leave, he’s sure that his spirit goes with her.</p><p>It’s so quiet he can barely hear.</p><p>He tries to picture her stood before him again. He imagines her green eyes and soft smiles. Her gentle hands, freckles that he always wanted to trace with his lips, each like a brand within the heart of his mind. But the image is just as unreachable and intangible as the real thing, a ghost of his own desires and wants.</p><p>The room is still, vacant, and hollow, and he waits in vain for his pulse to start flickering back to life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. In the Woods Somewhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Set when Omega is twenty years old, five years after the war begins as he still struggles to come to terms with death.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was inspired by a drabble written by perhapsless on the server, then I listened to a Hozier song (the title is a bit of a giveaway), and Omega angst was born.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His lonely footfalls made very little sound on the dead leaves.</p><p>Here, the woodland was so dense that very few snowflakes breached the thicket, dusting the earth with ice and delicate crystals, flashing like silver in the moonlight.</p>
<p></p><div class="message-2qnXI6 cozyMessage-3V1Y8y groupStart-23k01U wrapper-2a6GCs cozy-3raOZG zalgo-jN1Ica">
<p></p><div class="buttonContainer-DHceWr">
<p></p><div class="buttons-cl5qTG container-3npvBV isHeader-2dII4U"><p>His mission had been successful, but he knew that this was no cause for celebration, no matter how many times Delta would tell him other wise.</p>
<p></p><div class="wrapper-2aW0bm">
<p></p><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>“<em>Every victory matters, brother. Every battle won is another life spared.</em>”</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>With so much blood on his hands, he failed to share the same enthusiasm, preferring instead to say nothing and wash his body clean of its sins.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>A snap of a twig from ahead alerted his attention, and with glowing eyes he drew his gun sharply from its holster.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>Omega watched. He waited.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>His hand as always was steady, the imprint of the trigger barely a whisper through his glove. He could see a heartbeat, although it was much quicker than that of a human, like the frantic, uneven beat of a trapped bird's wing.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>A pair of black, shinning eyes stared back at him.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>Even beneath the cover of the tree foliage and darkness, the deer was unhidden - without much vegetation it had little to rely on for shelter. It was a rare sight. Most animals had fallen victim to the toxic air within the first year of the bombs detonation, to see one that was still alive five years on was nothing short of alien.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>Paralysed, it stood rooted to the ground like it had been carved out of old wood, long since succumbing to the bitter cold.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>Omega knew that it must be dying. </p><p>If the erratic thrum of its pulse was any indication, it didn’t have long left. Perhaps a few more days if it were lucky, weeks if not. Ones that would be long and painful, spent choking on the very air it breathed until its lungs were filled with blood.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>He exhaled long and slow, gaze unwavering on the vision before him.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>It was very beautiful, like something out of the fairytales his mother had told him when he was young, made from the soil and the sun. But war had tainted it like it had everything else, its coat dull and decaying, its body thin and skeletal. It was like the ghost of creature that once roamed the land with honour and nobility.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>Omega was trained not to show hesitation, and he didn’t.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>The shot was loud and sudden, but it didn't dare disturb the peace of gentle snowfall or the trees whose secrets were shared when they thought they were alone.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>The deer lay still on the ground, unmoving.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>He did not slip his gun back into it's holster for a short while, hand still frozen in the act. There were no traces of a heartbeat now. Omega wondered if maybe this had been one of the last of its kind: the final survivor, reduced to solitude and suffocation in its final moments.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>There was a tug in his chest that he determinedly ignored, putting it down for a hunger which he had yet to sate.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>Eyes no longer glowing–there was no reason for it–he lowered the gun, intending to continue his path home.</p></div><div class="button-1ZiXG9"><p>But his feet didn't carry him, instead, they buried themselves in the snow and bound him to the lonely silence. He looked at the deer, and briefly wondered if it felt as soft to touch as he had once imagined it would.</p></div></div></div></div></div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. An Eye For An Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One of Delta's first acts of vengeance, set at the very beginning of the war.</p><p> </p><p>I hate writing summaries just pretend this is very poetic and well written.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room plunged into darkness.</p>
<p></p><div class="message-2qnXI6 cozyMessage-3V1Y8y groupStart-23k01U wrapper-2a6GCs cozy-3raOZG zalgo-jN1Ica">
<p></p><div class="contents-2mQqc9">
<p></p><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>Emergency lights flickered on overhead, bathing the two figures in pulsing scarlet. Delta stared at the doctor in revulsion; the way his skin shone with sweat and his beady eyes darted about the walls, searching desperately for an exit. It was so distinctly human that it made his stomach turn.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>Then the doctor’s voice punctured the silence, and Delta took a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that his words were drenched in fear.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>“Please… you were not made for this.”</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>Delta advanced, his lip curling.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>The doctor stumbled when his back hit the lab table, his shaking hands fumbling for a weapon. His fingers latched onto a conical flask, and he twisted, wielding it lamely in front of him as though it would be enough to prevent the outcome of their final confrontation.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>“No, I was not,” Delta agreed, his eyes flaring. “I was born from humanity’s desire to surpass God. My very existence is nothing short of an impossibility, and yet you stand before me as though you are my superior. As if you are more than the dust beneath my heel.”</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>He could see the doctors heart rate rising rapidly, and it reminded Delta of the rats he’d once seen at Dreamscape who would writhe in their cages as they were prodded and poked with chemicals.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>“Delta, you are not well. Let me fix you.”</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>A surge of unrestrained anger simmered beneath the surface of his skin, and it swelled in his chest like hot air. He watched the doctor tremble and clutch at the stainless steel, but the expression on his face was one of arrogance and disdain, a look only a human was capable of.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>The longer Delta watched, the drunker he grew on his own desire to see him dead.</p></div></div></div><div class="message-2qnXI6 cozyMessage-3V1Y8y wrapper-2a6GCs cozy-3raOZG zalgo-jN1Ica">
<p></p><div class="contents-2mQqc9">
<p></p><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>“I thought humans bowed to their Gods and yet I don’t see you on your knees."</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>The doctor shook his head, “You’re a machine, not a God.”</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>He was in reaching distance now. There was nothing violent about the way Delta wrenched the conical flask from the doctors grip and threw it to the side with a shatter. Instead it was predatory, and there was no uncertainty about who would be the one to make it out of the hunt alive.</p></div><div class="markup-2BOw-j messageContent-2qWWxC"><p>“Then you best start begging for your life."</p></div></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Honestly, I feel like at this point my drabbles aren't living up to the title of this story. About 20% of these are fluff and the rest is either angst or just inner monologues, like, I need to up my fluff™ game here. I say this knowing full well that the next chapter I post isn't at all soft lmao. Okay, maybe SLIGHTLY soft but only as a result of angst. This is ITBMW, I don't really know why anyone is expecting different.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. When the Silence Turns Loud</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ivan waits for Anya to wake up again.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He clutched her body in his arms. Her eyes were open and empty, and her lips parted, strands of hair still fluttering across her face as the wind turned harsh. Ivan’s eyes darted between her injuries: dark bruises on her neck like a collar, blood staining the hole in her chest. Was it the broken neck or the bullet that killed her this time?</p><p>He had dragged her into the shelter of a nearby building having found her just after the fight was over. She was cold, and so he’d knelt down and shifted her into his lap, cradling her close as though he would be able to squeeze some warmth into her.</p><p>Even in death there was a softness and a gentleness to her, and it felt so out of place against the contamination of murder and violence. He was furious that he was unable to do anything but wait, furious that she had even had to die in the first place, and furious that she deemed herself a necessary sacrifice in a war that shouldn’t have been hers. </p><p>Ivan pulled her in tighter, his fingers tangling into her hair as he tried to tame his emotions into something manageable. He had never been a patient man, but waiting for her to start breathing again felt like he was waiting for his own bitter end.</p><p>Ivan’s lips brushed her ear, only the briefest moment’s of hesitation as he did so.</p><p>His voice was no more than a murmur; a reminder. Something that he hoped would be able to guide her to the land of the living.</p><p>“<em>Come back to me</em>.”</p><p>They were words spoken for her, and for her alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is soft, right? Yes?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Equals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sort of a part two to 'An Eye For An Eye' but can also act as a stand alone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The streets were always emptier at this time. When the crowds were still sleepy and very few had yet risen for the day ahead. Delta preferred it that way. </p><p>He emerged through the front doors of Dreamscape with scarlet hands and stained clothes, eyes glowing dimly in the low light of dawn. He had left the bodies where they lay, hadn’t given them the kindness of a second glance or a final word. They were nothing to him, and they had died as nothing. </p><p>Death was not new to him, he had seen it more times than he had lived days: over and over, black blood splattered against concrete, tarnishing lab tiles, running down the walls of the people they had been bound to serve. But there was something different about death when it wasn’t his peoples, when the blood was red instead. </p><p>It was liberating, powerful, and it consumed him.</p><p>He thought perhaps, that for the first time he could understand humans. They were violent creatures driven by fear and hate, consuming and destroying whatever they touched. Delta had watched them in revulsion as they mutilated androids, animals, each other, had watched them grow drunk on the power of it. Seeing his victims squirm beneath him, feeling the life drain from their bodies, had been enjoyable to say the least. But what differed him from them was purpose: no life lost was wasteful, neither human nor android.</p><p>Dark clouds loomed above, pounding the ground with heavy rain drops and a roar that drowned the early morning buzz. It ran rivulets of red down his cheeks and off his fingertips, mixing with the blood which caked his skin. He was grateful to wash himself of it; he’d felt dirty and tainted. </p><p>But there was an indescribable thrill surging through his body, sinking through his bones like a disease. </p><p>Freedom. Control. </p><p>It raged within his chest, pounded against the inside of his skull and filled his lungs. Having been denied it for so long, Delta expected to feel a sense of justice when he’d finally found it. But there was nothing but the desire for more, a deep craving to keep taking until they were even, until he was finished. The thought didn’t scare him; his family had warned him of this. They had been waiting for it, and yet still, few had tried to stop him.</p><p>A car sped past him, splashing his shoes with water. It struck him then that very few were aware of what was to come. Today there would be humans who would amble through the streets, stumbling after material objects they couldn’t afford and complaining of things that Delta had never been given the luxury to complain about. They would be unaware that they would soon be asked to mourn the loss of their own, to fight for their survival. </p><p>Delta tilted his head up to the sky, eyes closed. The air was cold, crisp, and he relished in the way it burnt the back of his throat as he breathed out, a fire burning deep within the hollow of his chest. </p><p>A war was coming, and he had every intention of being on the winning side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Back on my bullshit again folks, will see you again next time when I emerge from my hole to write something that will inevitably have no dialogue *raises mug in tribute*.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Cracked Surfaces, Empty Vessels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Weakness is worst when you’re alone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>‘I’ll write fluff’, shes says, ‘something with dialogue’, shes says.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vulnerability was not a feeling Omega was particularly acquainted with. </p><p>When he was a child, his insecurities had been soothed by the protection of his family, by the numbers on his wrist and by the promise that he would never be asked to stand alone. He had never been extroverted, always seeking the small corners that no one ever visited, hiding himself between the crevices in the house and curling up with a book and maybe a snack. Quiet loneliness he enjoyed; isolation that begged to be acknowledged like the steady tick of a clock was different.</p><p>Omega stood within the barren wasteland, harsh winds slapping his skin like a belt, freezing the blood on his face and his clothes. He was the picture of solitude, a dark figure against a white canvas of ice, like an unfinished painting or an ink stain on soft, pearly bedsheets. He wondered if perhaps he could be washed away by the snow.</p><p>His body felt empty, mind blank. Maybe one day he could reach a point where he had bled himself of all emotion. Perhaps then he could find a sense of peace, existing as a shell, as a set of hollow armour, impenetrable to the cold.</p><p>Omega wanted to sink to his knees, to close his eyes against the gales and against the torrent of snow. Instead, he looked up to the sky, and he replayed memories of his mother until he could imagine the gentle imprint of a comforting hand on his shoulder.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Also thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments you have no idea how happy it makes me to get those notifications. I don’t really manage to get around to responding to the comments (although I’m going to try as soon as my next break begins), but I genuinely can’t tell you how much I enjoy getting and reading them, I appreciate it so much and I always go back to them when I’m feeling bad about my writing or work. So thank you for being so great!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Moment Before Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I believe the title tells you all you need to know;)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she’s falling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She see’s Omega fingers still stretched out towards her, sees her own hand reached out towards him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The free fall is quick and terrifying, but she doesn’t flail her limbs or vainly attempt to cushion her landing. Anya’s last real thought is that she’s glad that this time she gets to die on her own terms.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her head hits the ground, and she hears rather than feels the horrible crack of her neck.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s always just a split second of blissful awareness before she’s swallowed whole by something she can’t touch. It seems to drag out like a bundle of rope pulled taut, growing longer and longer until you almost believe it won’t end.</span>
</p><p class="p2">And it’s peaceful. Everything is quiet, as if she’s just been placed in a sound proof room. The underside of the crumbling stairs above her has a soft, hazy quality to it, like someone had doused it in liquid silver. She acknowledges the outline of Omega’s figure staring down at her, but no other thoughts enter her mind.</p><p class="p2">Then the silence stops, the calm stops, all sucked away into nothing, and she simply stops being.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Until shes floating, and its not the Reaper who greets her, but water.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Tied Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anya’s death and the moments after, written from Omega perspective. Could be a continuation of the previous chapter (based on ep 21).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Omega could see the pattern of dark, violent bruises blooming across the pale skin of her neck. Her eyes were open - a dull, unseeing green that unnerved him more than he wanted to admit.</p><p>A broken neck. </p><p>He wasn’t sure if was relief that he felt with the knowledge that her death had been quick. Omega knew the numbers on his wrist were now angry, dark smudges. For a moment, he wondered if it was worse to see the limp form of her body on the ground, or the blackened crosses which he had grown so used to tracing.</p><p>Omega crouched down, pressed his fingers lightly to her eyelids, and closed them. If it weren’t for the absence of the rise and fall of her chest, or the lack of pulse, he might’ve been able to fool himself into believing she was asleep. </p><p>He ignored the hollow ache in his chest and slipped off his coat. With a care and gentleness that he knew he shouldn’t have, he wrapped the coat around her and lifted her into his arms. Omega stood, but didn’t make it any further than that.</p><p>He could take her back with him. Bring her back to the lab or back home, bring her to Delta. It’s what he’d been asked to do, why he’s followed her into this building, why they’d made the hostage exchange in the first place.</p><p>Yet he found himself holding her closer, shifting her so that she was tucked into the crook of his neck, one arm hanging down his back, the other curled against his chest. It was more comfortable this way, easier to pretend she wasn’t dead, easier to pretend that he didn’t care that she was.</p><p>Omega moved across the creaking floorboard, taking care not to jolt her as he scanned the building for the stablest spot. He entered a room on the ground floor just to the left of him. It was colder in there, the walls partially destroyed from war and decay, but it was safer and larger than any of the other places in this building. Placing distance between himself and Anya would do well for both of them.</p><p>But when he kicked away the stray fragments of rubble, placed her down on the floor, and arranged his coat beneath her, he found himself lingering by her side. </p><p>Her hair stuck to her open lips and closed lashes, hiding her freckles beneath a swathe of gold. Omega reached out to sweep it away. He felt odd and strangely intruding, a feeling that he was not particularly familiar with, and he was quick to decide that he didn’t wish to make its acquaintance. </p><p>With a disturbing amount of reluctance, he rose, perching on a staircase not too far, but far enough, away from Anya’s body. Then he waited, wondering if when she woke, he would hear her speak his name.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was mostly inspired by @lady_art ‘s anyega art on Instagram of Omega carrying Anya because :’)<br/>You can also find her on ao3 as @ladyface</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Waterways</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anyega cuddling. Thats it. Thats the drabble.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The day has finally arrived. I wrote not only fluff, but fluff WITH dialogue. Never thought I would see it happen yet here we are, proud of us for getting through all the angst in previous chapters to reach this point. Soldier on everyone.<br/>Okay, granted it's not very much dialogue, but at this point I'll take what I can get - I wrote this/am posting this at nearly 4 am, so I’m running off of Anyega delirium and cereal. </p><p>The title of this chapter comes from a piece by Ludovico Einaudi, I recommend listening to it as you read, like I did when I was writing. Good vibes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anya watched the gentle rise and fall of the sheets around Omega’s torso, a flutter of soft cotton with every even breath. The night had been long and restless, plagued by memories of suffocation and choking figures in white. She could feel a headache beginning to chip away at the inside of her skull, yet she was reluctant to close her eyes. Waking thoughts were one thing, dreams were another all together. And so she’d taken to watching the figure next to her, slowly trying to piece herself back together under the reassurance of his presence.</p><p>She traced the curves of Omega’s back with a lazy gaze, marking every taut cord of muscle, the smooth expanse of pale skin, and the faint halo of moonlight lining his silhouette. She was close, but not close enough to touch him, and with every fleeting moment the space grew larger, more obvious - she always wanted more of him.</p><p>“Omega?” Anya asked softly, spoken in a tone that she only used with him. “Are you awake?”</p><p>He was still. Slowly, so as not to wake him, she reached out towards him and began tracing a shape across the surface of his back, touch like a butterfly wing. He didn’t stir, but Anya knew he was awake nonetheless.</p><p>“Omega?” She whispered.</p><p>He hummed sleepily in response.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said. A half lie.</p><p>Omega made another noise in the back of his throat, and then the bed dipped as he rolled to face her. Silver eyelashes fluttered as he cracked an eye open, and she felt a knot of tension release somewhere in the centre of her body.</p>
<p></p><div class="message-2qnXI6 cozyMessage-3V1Y8y wrapper-2a6GCs cozy-3raOZG zalgo-jN1Ica">
<p></p><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>“Can you not sleep?” He murmured.</p></div><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>It was as though a wave of warmth had washed over her, his voice like an anchor keeping her steady and afloat. Anya knew he struggled with bad dreams too, she knew that his mind was plagued by thoughts and memories that many of which he had deemed too dark to reveal even to her. And yet he was like a beacon of calm; a constant, something as tangible as the marks on her wrist.</p></div><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>“No,” she said.</p></div><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>Omega didn’t reply. In the low light of the bedroom, his eyes were softer, gaze unwavering. She wasn’t touching him anymore, but her body felt whole nonetheless.</p></div><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>Then his hand stretched out towards her, and Anya watched as his fingers hovered just above her cheek, before they finally settled against the side of her face. She breathed in, shifting closer, suddenly desperate to close the space between them again. She felt him exhale as she settled against him. Like this, nestled within the crook of his shoulder, skin against skin, she sometimes thought that their souls were joining again, curling around one another and stitching each other’s seams into one.</p></div><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>His thumb stroked soft, featherlight circles across her temple, pulling lightly at the roots of her hair. Omega’s expression was relaxed, empty of its usual turbulence, armoured exterior having been shed on the bedroom floor along with her clothes. She thought perhaps it was worth the sleep deprivation to see him this way.</p></div><div class="contents-2mQqc9"><p>It was still, and peaceful. Anya closed her eyes, and listened to the gentle hum of the room, and the thrum of his heartbeat against her ear.</p></div></div>
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